Strange Things in the Archepelago
by E. L. Glass
Summary: Original characters fight in the setting created by the 2003 PotC video game. A privateer and a young woman race against colonial powers, evil pirates, and dangerous monsters to destroy a terrible weapon.
1. Chapter One: Crimson Dawn

Disclaimer: _This work is based on the **Pirates of the Caribbean** video game by Bethesda Softworks. The game itself has little to do with the film, **Pirates of the Caribbean**, except for sharing its name. However, the feel of the game is similar to the film. The names of characters and locations in this fiction that are from the game are property of Disney and Bethesda Softworks. Any resemblance of made-up characters to real-life persons or situations is coincidental._

Chapter One

Crimson Dawn

Oxbay was quiet. The island was bathed in cool moonlight, and swathed by warm Caribbean breezes. The English colony, named for the island, was mostly asleep, but pairs of redcoat guards patrolled the perimeter of the town. Because the colony was usually peaceful, the redcoats were barely paying attention. Instead, they traded stories or jokes as they walked. It was under these ideal circumstances that Colin Black snuck to one of the large, standalone houses just inside Oxbay's gates.

The house itself was unremarkable, but for its contents. A window was ajar—like so many windows in the Caribbean colonies, it had probably been left open for ventilation. This particular window opened from the dining room of the house, and it opened into the garden. A panel of sheer curtains fluttered in and out of the house with the breeze.

Colin gave one last glance around the garden before pushing the curtains out of the way and climbing into the house. His boots thudded quietly on the wood flooring, and he straightened, glancing around. So far, so good, Colin thought, as he made his way towards one of the closets whose doors were built into the paneling of the dining room. On the way, he pulled a candle from its candlestick on the table, lit it, and stuck it between his teeth so he could see in the darkness.

The first cabinet contained fine china. The second, finely-wrought silverware. The third, crystal from the finest houses in England. The last cupboard contained an unassuming canvas bag. Colin crouched by the bag, untied its opening, and peered inside. "There we are," he muttered, stroking his goatee-covered chin thoughtfully. Well, he mused. That's that. Best to keep moving. He picked up the sack, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to move back into the dining room. As he did, he tripped over the dining room carpet and sprawled out on the carpet.

The resounding crash shook the dining room table. Colin groaned. "Nice work," he muttered. It was a good thing that Commander James Hartley, the man who owned the house, was out at the fort for night watch. Colin moved back towards the window, but before he got there, the door on the other end of the dining room swung open, and Colin heard the distinctive click of the hammer on a fun.

"Stop right there," said a voice, and Colin was surprised to realize it was a female's voice. He turned and held his candle up, so he could see towards the door better. The slender form of a young woman in a nightgown became silhouetted in the doorway. Sure enough, there was a pistol in her hand, pointing towards him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Me? Oh, nothing. Just retrieving something for a friend. You should go back to sleep, wouldn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep," Colin said with a charming smile.

"Drop the bag and maybe I won't shoot you."

"Shoot me? Please. You look like you'd feel better holding a pair of knitting needles than a gun. Have you ever shot one of those?"

"No, but I know how," the girl replied. "Stop!" she cried, for he had begun backing towards the window from whence he came.

"You're not going to shoot me," Colin said, smiling again. She advanced as he retreated. He pursed his lips and, after raising his hands, as if to surrender, slung the bag out the window and dived after it.

"Hey!" the girl cried and, as Colin threw the bag's strap over his shoulder, he could see her scrambling out the window after him. She tripped over her long nightgown, and the gun bounced under a rose bush.

Colin hurried to the low garden wall, vaulted over it, and took off towards the port. He rolled his eyes when he heard the young woman hollering after him to "Stop! Stop this instant!"

As he came to the gate, he was stopped by two redcoats. He said, "Sorry, no time to chat, name's Jack Norton, my ship's docked right outside and, oh, by the way, I think the French are about to attack Oxbay."

The redcoats blinked at each other, and Colin pushed the gate open. The story, although it was a good ruse, was actually true. The reason Colin had come to Oxbay in the first place was because the French were planning to invade, and Colin's employer did not want the bag falling into the hands of the French.

"Wot—are you serious?" one of the guards asked. Before Colin could answer, a screaming young woman came hurtling around the corner.

"Stop him!" the woman screamed, pointing to Colin's disappearing back. The young woman ran past the guards, and the redcoats followed them into the port. The three colonists drew up short when they saw a squadron of French ships sailing into the port.

"Ring the alarm!" one of the redcoats shouted, and the other ran towards the massive bell near the gate. Colin quickly threw the sack into the boat, untied the mooring line, and hopped into the boat. As he began to push off, he saw the young woman running down the dock.

Behind her, a whole squad of redcoats was running up the dock after her. "Stop!" she shouted.

"Give it up, miss. Give it up! I'm away."

"Not yet," she shouted and came to a stop at the end of the dock. Colin began to row. "Stop!"

She bent, reaching for the boat's stern. She almost had it when the squad of British soldiers caught up with her. One of them bumped her, and she fell into the boat. Colin continued to row, glaring at her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I want my bag. Now, take me back to shore."

"First," Colin said sternly, continuing to row quickly. He was rowing towards an outcropping of rock, behind which he knew was his ship, _Crimson Dawn_. The _Dawn_ was a corvette that Colin had been left by his uncle, a privateer in service to the King of England, over a year ago. "First, it's not your bag. It's not even your brother's bag. It was stolen from someone else. Second, I will not take you back to shore. Swim."

The young woman glanced over the side of the boat. Colin did, too. The water was black. Even the sandy bottom could not be seen. "I—I can't swim. Please, take me back to shore."

"No."

"Take me back!"

"Miss—whatever your name is—I'm not going to take you back. The colony of Oxbay is about to be sacked by the French. If I take you back, God only knows what will happen to you. French soldiers could kill you. French soldiers could do worse. Now: I'll take you to wherever I'm going next and you can barter your way back to Oxbay, if you still want to return," Colin said. He opened his mouth to say more, but quickly closed it when an explosion sounded in the port.

The French ships had opened fire. A column of smoke and fire erupted from one of the stalls that was set up against the wall surrounding the town. "Blast," Colin said.

"What is it?"

"Well, the French ships are lining up, end to end, not only so their long nines can have maximum affect, but to block all the ships that are in the port, in the port." Colin continued rowing, faster now, and two minutes later the boat was bumping against the hull of the _Crimson Dawn_. "Oi! Demaro! Pull up the anchor! Let down the sails!"

"Aye sir!" was the reply.

"Miss, after you." He gestured to a ladder built into the hull of the ship.

"It's Verity Carlisle," she said quietly, but she moved unsteadily towards the ladder nonetheless. A few moments later, a dark-skinned man was helping Verity onto the deck. Colin followed, stuffing the bag into a crewman's hand.

"My quarters," Colin said quietly, and then quirked an eyebrow significantly. The crewman nodded and went to a door set into a wall on the stern. Stairs led from both sides to the quarterdeck, where the steering wheel was mounted.

"Orders, Captain?" asked the dark-skinned man.

"Demaro, get us out of the line of fire of the French ships. Run up our neutral flag. Load the guns, but don't fire unless they fire first." Colin hurried up the stairs and pulled his spyglass out. The ship began to move out towards the open ocean, sailing to the right to push past the French squadron. As they passed, Colin could see, through his spyglass, that the French didn't even have their guns run out, except on the sides of the ships that were currently assaulting Oxbay. "Beautiful."

Verity quietly picked her way across the deck to the stairs. She joined Colin on the quarterdeck. "What's going on, Captain?"

"We're on our way," Colin said. "And call me Colin."

"Where are we going?" Verity asked.

"Away from Oxbay. Beyond that—I want to go to Falaise de Fleur. That's where my business suggests, at least," he added.

"Can we get to Falaise de Fleur via Redmond Island?"

"Redmond?" Colin turned to look at her curiously. "Why?"

"Oxbay falls under the jurisdiction of the English governor at Redmond Island."

"I know."

"Well," Verity said, as if explaining something to a child. "If we were to report this seizure of Oxbay to the governor, certainly he'd be inclined to reward you."

Colin looked at her, although Verity could hardly see the man in the darkness, and could make out only the reflection of the moonlight from his eyes. "All right. Fine. Redmond Island." He sighed quietly and then said, "Come with me, Miss Carlisle."

Verity followed him back down to the primary deck. Colin pushed the door that the crewman had entered open and gestured Verity inside. There was a study of sorts inside the room, with a table surrounded by four chairs in the center. Another door was on the left, which Colin opened.

"My bedroom. I'll have it prepared for you to sleep in tonight. We should be to Redmond by tomorrow evening, but if we are delayed, you are welcome to stay here." Colin disappeared into the room and returned, carrying a handful of clothes and linens. He got a fresh set of linens from a chest, went into the bedroom again, and then returned. "All right. There's food in that chest…" he pointed to another chest. "…so help yourself."

"Well…thank you," Verity said quietly. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to turn in, now."

"All right. Feel free. My men will be under orders to leave you undisturbed."

"Thank you," Verity repeated quietly and smiled tightly. She moved over to the door and pulled it open, and walked into the bedroom. Colin watched her, then moved to a cabinet built into the wall of the room, where he stashed the sack he had taken.

"All right, mate," said Colin as he walked back onto the deck. "Do we have our heading?"

"Aye, cap'n," said the first mate. "If the wind holds, we should be to Redmond by this time tomorrow."

"Good. It's bad luck to have a woman on board. Especially one who seemed intent on shooting me less than an hour ago."

"What's that, captain?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Back to work. And leave my quarters alone. Anyone caught in my quarters without invitation goes to Davy Jones' locker!" The last part of this order was shouted loudly, to the entire crew, and was greeted with a rousing chorus of groans.

"After all," Demaro muttered to the captain, after reluctantly acquiescing to his order. "She _is_ a pretty girl."

"Get your mind on the sails," Colin said, leaning against the rail. He frowned thoughtfully, rolling his eyes downward towards the quarters, then he looked back towards the bow of the ship.


	2. Interlude I: Sea

Sea Interlude I

Verity woke groggily, her head pounding slightly as she wondered just where she was. She was laying on her back, treated to a view of roughhewn planks made into a roof above her. She heard occasional footsteps above her, and muted voices. She couldn't quite make out what the voices were saying. Behind her, sunlight poured through the windows into what she realized was Captain Colin Black's quarters.

The young woman sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and walked over to the chair by the door. Picking her dressing gown off the back of the chair, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and tied the sash around her waste before pulling the door open. The bedroom opened into the captain's office/common area, where he had a table and several chairs. Maps were strewn over the surface of the table.

After a few moments of leaning against the doorjamb, Verity moved forward and opened the door to the main deck. As she stepped out onto the deck, the first mate, Demaro Colin had called him, said, "Hello, Miss."

"Hello," she replied distractedly. The men were all hard at work pulling and swabbing and sailing. She turned and saw Colin standing at the helm, slowly and carefully adjusting the course.

"Good afternoon, Miss Carlisle," he called genially, his voice carrying over the sudden gust of wind. "Did you sleep well?"

"I suppose I did," Verity replied, turning to climb the stairs and walk up to the quarterdeck. Her slippers thudded strangely on the deck as she approached. "I could hardly tell I was on a boat, actually," she added.

Colin gave her a smile and said, "Yes, well, that's because we didn't hit a reef, and the sea was fairly smooth last night."

Verity nodded, an action meant to hide the fact that she knew nothing about sailing besides that the ship went when the winds blew. She leaned against the railing and asked, "How long until we reach Redmond Island?"

"Few hours, if this wind keeps up," Colin said with a frown.

The frown did not go unnoticed by Verity, who asked, "Is that a bad thing?"

"The winds concern me," the captain answered simply.

Verity, who did not seem to take much comfort in that answer, said, "Concern you how? I thought it was good for you if you were able to get to your destination faster." She gave him a puzzled look.

"Usually, yes, but…" His voice trailed off, and the handsome man stroked at his goateed chin lightly. Finally, he said, "Are you hungry, Miss Carlisle?"

Verity was ravenous. She hadn't eaten since supper the night before. "Yes, I am."

"Let's get something to eat. Demaro," he said, and the first mate took to the helm. "Call me if anything happens."

He led Verity down to the cabin again, where, after rummaging through the chest of food, he set a loaf of bread, some smoked fish, and a jug of ginger water on the table. "Sit, please," he said, and took a seat. Verity sat down opposite him.

Taking a piece of bread offered by the captain, Verity said, "Captain, what is it you're expecting to encounter on this voyage?"

"What do you mean?" Colin asked around a mouthful of bread.

"You seem to be anticipating some sort of trouble. And what about the wind? You never explained what the problem was with having more wind."

"It's not more wind that has me worried, Miss Carlisle, but unnatural wind. Supernatural wind." Colin poured himself a cup of ginger water and took a sip.

Verity was unimpressed. "It would seem, wouldn't it, that those two phrases are mutually exclusive."

The look on Colin's face was completely deadpan as he said, waspishly, "You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually," Verity retorted, chewing a piece of salted fish. "What's got you so spooked?"

Colin rubbed his eyes, and then sat back in his chair, glancing to the side. Verity followed his gaze to where the burlap sack he had carried away from her house sat on a chair. He said, "Nothing. The wind is strange, that's all."

The young woman had the distinct impression that there was something that the good captain was not telling her. But she said, "All right. I trust you, captain."

"I haven't given you reason not to, have I, Miss Carlisle?"

Verity smirked, and then gave a laugh. "Aside from the fact that I met you while you were stealing from my house," she said on a chuckle, "no, I suppose you haven't."

"I wasn't stealing. I was _liberating_."

"What's the difference?"

"Well," Colin said, sounding as if he was explaining something very elementary to someone very unintelligent, "It would be stealing if they were the possession of someone in the house. It was liberating because they belonged to someone else."

"That's not true," Verity snapped. "That sack and its contents are property of my brother, Commander James Carlisle."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, there, Verity," Captain Black said without missing a beat. "Your brother was and always has been a privateer first and a soldier in the King's army second!"

"You're wrong," Verity countered. She had never seen evidence of her brother's apparent misbehavior, but suddenly there were memories of suspicious things: James telling her that he wouldn't be home that night; James leaving for several days at a time with minimal notice. Was he indeed doing something unseemly? Were these trips, these absences, really indicative of her brother's hidden lifestyle?

"I can tell by your quizzical look and puzzled ponderings that you can recognize that your brother was not all he seemed," Colin said quietly. "But, alas. He was not, as far as I can tell, a bad man or a criminal. Except for possessing stolen property, but who hasn't been guilty of that at one point or another?" He grinned at her.

Verity didn't return the smile. She was staring at Colin without seeing him. Instead, she tried to think of the explanations her brother had given her. She couldn't remember, and it scared her. Was James a pirate?


	3. Interlude II: Oxbay

Land Interlude I: Oxbay

"Se lever! Se déplacer là-bas. Ne pas me faire tirer vous aime un chien!" the French soldier shouted at the prisoners in what remained of Oxbay's fort. The prisoners, mostly navy officers, looked blankly at each other; no one understood what he was saying.

"I think what he means to say," James Hartley, former Commander of the fort at Oxbay and current prisoner of war, explained. "Is that he doesn't want us near the gate."

Hartley gestured towards the center of the fort courtyard, where a gallows had been erected. Three citizens (who had attempted to kill the leader of the French forces in his bed) had been hung already. "Let's just go over there. Besides," he said curtly, "Here, we don't have anything, but over there, there's rope."

"What good is rope going to do us?" someone asked. Hartley turned to see an ensign looking up at him, nursing a cut on his leg.

"I'm not sure. It's better than nothing."

Hartley turned around when he heard the French guard laughing obnoxiously. "Un autre idiot anglais? Oui, oui, l'amener à l'intérieur," he said, waving a hand. Hartley peered beyond the soldier, where his friend Captain Marcus Mariner was being lugged forward by two Frenchmen, his black hair disheveled.

After dropping Mariner unceremoniously at the foot of the gallows with the rest, the Frenchmen turned and began to walk the perimeter of the fortress courtyard, talking and laughing to themselves. Hartley dropped to his knees next to Mariner and said, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Mariner said quietly. "Took a nasty bump to the head, but that was because I tripped over my boots in my haste to fight off the French."

"Are you sure? You look pale," Hartley said gravely.

Mariner looked peeved. "I'm _fine_," he insisted. "Anyway, you remember how we said we'd always look out for the other? Well, I was able to sneak into your house. I didn't find Verity. She wasn't at the tavern, and I spoke to Mrs. Henry, who had taken all the girls into the jungles."

"Was Verity with them?" Hartley asked, looking alarmed.

Mariner shook his head. "No. But, James, I'm positive she wasn't taken to the French brothel." The captain patted Hartley's arm.

"She can't have left the island." Hartley looked up at Mariner. "Could she?"

"I don't know, old man," Mariner replied, shaking his head. "There were rumors that a privateer ship was able to escape, but no one knows who was on it. The only person not accounted for is Verity."

"You don't think she's d—?"

"No," Mariner said sternly. "Your sister is fine. Just take it easy, James."

"All right," he said quietly, nodding his head. Finally, he sat cross-legged on the ground and began rubbing his face with his hands. "All right. I'm sure the crew of the ship that escaped has enough sense to tell the Governor over at Redmond what happened. We'll have the French out of here soon, and my sister will be still here. Hiding. Somewhere."

James heaved a sigh and looked up. A French flag fluttered over the fort. He vowed that it would not remain there long.


	4. Chapter Two: Ruined Tea

Chapter Three

Ruining Tea

The _Crimson Dawn_ sailed into port at Redmond, the seat of English power in the archipelago. The crewmen stopped their work when Demaro called for their attention. Colin stepped forward on the quarterdeck and said, "Lads, we're in Redmond for one night. Don't cause trouble, and don't get yourselves killed. Beyond that, have a good time."

The crew all disembarked, leaving Demaro, Colin, and Verity aboard, as well as the quartermaster below decks, and the cannoneer. "Demaro, keep an eye on things for me. Miss Carlisle and I are going ashore."

"Speak of the devil," Demaro muttered, and Colin turned to see Verity approaching.

"Miss Carlisle," Colin said quietly. He looked at her for several moments before saying, "Well, you certainly can't be meeting the Governor of Redmond looking like that. I have some clothes down in the cargo hold. Find something that would best suit you."

Verity was about to be offended when she realized that the captain was quite right. She was dressed in a nightgown and a dressing robe, and slippers. "Oh, yes, of course," she said, flushing a little. "Thank you."

And so Colin waited for about ten minutes until finally Verity reappeared on deck. She was wearing an olive-green dress with gold lace along the hem, cuff, and low-cut, square neck. She had selected a bonnet, as well, and a pair of shoes with little gold buckles. He stares at her, his goateed jaw dropping slightly. "Err—Miss Carlisle, you look… very pretty. Very, uh, fitting to be meeting the Governor."

"Thank you," she said, and then gave a little curtsey.

Colin now felt slightly underdressed. He had put on clean slacks and a fresh tunic, but his boots were slightly ragged, and the slacks were patched in a few places. He cleared his throat and said, "Err, all right then, Miss Carlisle. Let's get a move on. Demaro, you'll keep everything under control?"

"Aye, sir," replied the first mate, and by the look of him, he was trying hard not to stare at Verity. "Everything will be taken care of."

"Good. Miss Carlisle?"

Verity and Colin disembarked, and they walked up the dock towards the harbor entrance. They could see the thatched roofs of the homes in Redmond beyond the gate, which they approached quickly. "It's hard to believe that the security hasn't been tightened," Verity said quietly as she followed Colin down a gently curving stairway.

"They don't know about Oxbay yet," Colin said out of the side of his mouth as he passed a group of women who were standing in the marketplace. "Once they do, you'll find it hard to move about in the town."

Verity nodded. As they came down an alleyway, they saw a massive, palatial residence on the other side of the plaza. "That'll be the governor's house, then," she said, nodding towards the building.

"That's likely. Let's go." He led her towards the gate. As they approached, the two redcoats at the gate crossed their spears in front of them.

"Halt. What do you want?" one of them demanded aggressively.

"We have business with the governor," said Colin calmly.

The second redcoat looked suspicious. "What kind of business?"

"We've come to tell him that the colony of Oxbay is under the control of the French!" Verity said nervously.

"The French?" said the first redcoat skeptically. "Why would the French move against Oxbay? Are you pulling our legs, miss?"

"She isn't," said Colin with an aggressiveness that seemed to alarm even him. "I saw the French squadron with my own eyes. They were doing battle with the fort. They landed troops in Oxbay."

"We don't know _why_ the French attacked," Verity insisted. "Besides the obvious: they want land. Now, are you going to let us tell the governor or not?"

"We'd better let them in," said the first redcoat, eyeing his partner, who reluctantly nodded.

They uncrossed their spears and gestured the pair forward. Colin knocked lightly on the door, and a few moments later, a page appeared in the doorway. "Uh. Yes?"

"We need to speak with the governor," said Colin quickly. "It's urgent."

"Yes, well, the guards look very much alive, so you can't be all that dangerous." The page looked slightly put off by this, and more than a little disappointed. "Oh, well, you'd better come inside."

"Thank you," Verity said as she stepped into the hall of the governor's residence. The room reeked of European finery, with gold and silver candlesticks, expensive-looking books, and marble that almost certainly had to be imported. Verity saw Colin's jaw clench as he saw a jewel-encrusted sword sitting atop a bookshelf.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered teasingly.

He looked round at her. "What? Oh. Just looking. I'm not a thief."

Verity simply pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes thoughtfully. The page closed the door, bolted it, and said, "This way, please." He led them down a hall to their left. At the end of the hall, a pair of double doors opened into a study, where sat a massive man in a blue tunic that barely stretched over his belly. "Governor Sybarite, these people are here to see you."

The governor, who looked as if he were about to tuck into a rather large piece of cake, looked up distractedly, then set his fork down. "I'm tending to very important matters. Matters of, ah, state business," he added importantly, smoothing non-existent wrinkles from his tunic.

"Indeed," Colin said with a smirk. "We shan't take too much of your time then, your Excellency. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Captain Colin Black; I'm a privateer in the service of His Majesty the King. And this is Miss Verity Carlisle, a citizen of the town of Oxbay, and a loyal subject of the Crown."

Verity raised an eyebrow and looked over at Colin. She had no idea he could be this formal, and it surprised her. He caught her eye, gave a polite smile, and folded his hands in front of him.

"Well, as long as you're both in good standing," the governor said, nodding to the page. "Do fix us some tea. And bring some sweets for our guests," he added, attempting to stand. He struggled for a few moments with his own girth, and then finally squeezed out of the chair. "Have a seat, Captain, Miss Carlisle."

"Thank you, your Excellency," Verity said demurely as she took a seat in one of the luxuriously upholstered chairs.

"Governor Sybarite, we really should…" Colin began.

The governor cut him off with a wave of his meaty hand. "Tea first, my friend. We are not barbarians, you know." He gave a grin, which forced his fat cheeks to look even fuller. Straightening his wig, he sank into his own chair. It gave a quiet groan of protest, and then the room was silent for several moments before the page returned with a tray of tea.

Several moments later, with tea in one hand and a coconut macaroon in the other, the governor said, "Well, what's this business that couldn't wait until the morning?"

Colin had been helping himself to a macaroon, which he promptly dunked into the tea and ate in one bite before answering. "Well, your Excellency, I'm afraid we bring some bad news from Oxbay."

"Bad news?" the governor said, taking another macaroon just after popping the first one into his mouth. Crumbs spilled down the front of his tunic as he looked to Verity, as if expecting her to either contradict or corroborate the answer.

"Yes, your Excellency," Verity said, setting her own un-touched macaroon on a napkin on the table in front of her, next to her tea. She cleared her throat and said, "Oxbay has been attacked by a squadron of French ships."

The governor looked thunderstruck for several moments, then quietly said, "Well, that's one way to ruin a perfectly good tea." He was quiet for several more moments before his face turned purple with rage. "The _French!_" roared Sybarite. "My cook is French! I shall never eat another thing he creates! He is, as of this moment, unemployed!"

For several moments, everyone looked down at the macaroons. The governor gave a sheepish smile, and then said, "Well, it wouldn't do to waste." He leaned forward (the chair groaned again) and snatched another few macaroons.

"And since we risked great personal trouble to tell you," Colin said quietly over the rim of his teacup, "I think it appropriate of you to do me a favor."

"A favor?" The governor looked blankly at the sea captain for several long moments before letting out a guffaw. "You mean payment, of course, my good man! Yes, well, the Crown has authorized me to reward subjects for helpful actions."

"Payment, yes, but there is something else. Something that perhaps you as governor would be well able to do best."

Verity looked over at Colin, who seemed determined to look anywhere but at her. She had heard nothing of this request, but it might be interesting. She rested her hands in her lap and looked back to the governor.

"What is it, my friend?"

"It's Miss Carlisle. I would like it if you were to make sure she had a clean room to stay until the liberation of Oxbay, when she can return to her home." Colin took a sip of his tea and looked at the governor expectantly.

What he saw alarmed him. Sybarite had turned his greedy eyes on Verity, and Colin had the distinct impression that in his eyes she was something on par with a tasty macaroon. Colin hastily added, "What I meant was, I'll pay for her to take a room at the tavern, if you can assure me that she gets back to Oxbay unperturbed." He locked eyes with the governor.

Verity narrowed her eyes. She wanted to say, _How dare you! I'm not some piece of luggage to be tossed around!_ She wanted to shout, _I want to go with you, and someone has to keep an eye on you. _But all she could do was keep staring at Colin, who was staring steadily at the governor, his steely gaze unflinching. She folded her arms and looked at her shoes, determined not to make a scene. She would go quietly. But somewhere in the back of her mind, Verity had thought that they had become friends on their short journey. _Apparently,_ she thought as she counted the stitches in her cuff, _I was mistaken._

"Ah," said the governor sulkily. "Yes, well, I will make certain that she gets home safe and unmolested. So, young lady," he said, turning to Verity. "Carlisle…you're related to the Hartley line?"

"Yes, sir. My brother, James Hartley, is commander of the fort at Oxbay. Or, he was," she said, her eyes going strangely blank as the thought occurred to her that James could be dead, or worse. She shook her head clear and said, "His father was my mother's first husband."

"Yes, of course. I do try to keep an active interest in the citizens of the islands I govern." He offered her a tight smile. "Now, I have a business proposition for Captain Black, here. I'll have my page show you to the tavern."

"Oh. Thank you," Verity returned politely, turning to Colin. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'll stop in at the tavern before I leave to make sure you've got everything you need."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Verity said coldly.

"Even so," he said, looking back to the governor, effectively dismissing the young woman from his attention.

The page, who had been standing at the door, beckoned to Verity. She followed him out of the room and down the hall. Colin watched after her until she disappeared into the shadows in the hall.

"All right, Governor Sybarite, let's hear that proposition of yours," Colin said with a tight smile.


	5. Chapter Three: A Plan is Hatched

Chapter Three

A Plan is Hatched

Verity followed the page into the hall. He took a lantern off the side table and lit it before handing it to Verity. He lit himself a lantern and held it up as he ushered the girl out of the hall and into the dusky evening. "Quiet night," Verity said as they stepped out onto the steps.

"Redmond's usually quiet," the page replied, leading his charge down the stairs. They passed the redcoat guards and walked into the plaza in front of the governor's residence. "Last time there was a ruckus that took the governor away from his before-bed sweets, they ended up in the stocks for a week."

"My goodness," Verity said gravely, her face creasing into a frown. She glanced sidelong at the page. "Does he have as wild a temper as it seems?"

"Quite wild, sometimes. If someone interrupts his meals, he gets furious!"

"Is he married?" Verity asked quietly.

The page shrugged. "Wife's dead. Crushed to death, probably—but that was years ago, when I was but a boy." He yawned hugely and added, "He's got a daughter, Lily. About your age, I think."

"Ah," said Verity, following the page up to a rough wooden door, above which a sign read _Smith's Tavern and Inn_. "What kind of deal do you think the governor is offering to Captain Black?"

"I'm not sure," the page confessed, pushing the door open. "Most likely he wants to make use of Black's skills and his ship." The page ushered Verity inside the warm, softly bright common area of the tavern. "Recently he sent a privateer to Douwesen to retrieve some sort of Incan treasure. It's likely something to that effect."

"Treasure?" Verity said thoughtfully, her mind turning to the canvas sack that Colin had taken from her home. She barely listened as the page explained that the governor couldn't use ships from the English fleet to further his own fortune, and then said, "I'll talk with the innkeeper."

He walked towards the bar, leaving her alone by the door. She crossed her arms and looked at the floor until a voice from behind her said, "Excuse me, miss. Would you mind…?" She turned to see a wizened crewman from the _Crimson Dawn_ sitting at a table with a mug in one hand and a pen in the other. "I'm sorry, could you move? I'm recruiting."

"Oh," said Verity dumbly, her cheeks flushing a little. "Certainly, yes, of course." She moved to another table, at which she sat. As she watched, a young man came over to the crewman. They conversed quietly for several minutes until the young man made a mark in the book. He then turned and walked towards the bar.

He didn't make it to the bar, however. He spotted Verity and dropped unsteadily onto the bench across from her.

"Hello there," he said lecherously, leering across the table at her. "Mind if I keep you company?"

Verity was about to ask him to leave when an idea occurred to her. Mid-word, she changed her mind. "Yes—err—no. Not at all. Please sit down." By his breath and the look in his eyes, Verity guessed that he had already consumed quite a measure of liquid courage.

"What brings you 'round these parts?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Just visiting. Relatives. My brother," Verity explained, her dark eyes avoiding the drunken man's face. "Nothing special. So…are you a sailor?"

"Yes, I am," he replied with a grin. "Just signed on for my first tour with some ship. The _Red Dawn _or some such."

Things were looking better all the time, Verity thought. Two minutes ago, the drunk was signing up for the tour, and now he didn't even know the name of the ship. That was good news. She smiled over the table at him and tittered, "I _love_ sailors."

"Yeah?" was the reply. "What say you come up to my room and give me a little going-away party?"

"I'd like that. Say, what's your name?" As she spoke, Verity tried not to gag over her fake smile.

"Jerome Bender. Yours?"

"Mary. Yes. Mary Johnson," she stammered.

"Purdy name for a purdy girl," said Bender, winking at her flirtatiously. "So how 'bout that party?"

"I'd love to give you a party. But I have to talk with someone first. My brother, you know." She smiled and said, "What room are you in?"

"Number nine. Shall we meet there in an hour?" He looked at her, although Verity had the distinct impression that he was trying to imagine what exactly she looked like under the dress and petticoats.

"I can't wait," Verity said with a smile. Bender stood up and across the tavern and up the stairs, giving her one last wink before disappearing up on to the upper floor.

"Now that the mixed company is gone, we can have a real drink," Governor Sybarite said calmly, pouring a measure of brandy into a snifter. He handed it across the desk to Colin, and then poured a much bigger measure of brandy into his own snifter. "Now then. You are captain of what, again?"

"_Crimson Dawn_, your Excellency." Colin took a sip of his brandy.

"Are you in good standing with the French?" asked the governor, setting his brandy down on the desk.

Colin stroked his goatee and frowned thoughtfully. "Yes," he said finally, nodding his head. "I suppose I am."

"Good. Then this is what you will do." The governor leaned forward, looking intently at the captain across his desk. "I want you to go to the French colony at Falaise de Fleur. You can infiltrate their fort there and find their battle plans. Do what you can to disrupt their war-making abilities."

"Governor, with all due respect, I have things I need to do. I can't be running around the archipelago on fools—I mean fantastic errands," Colin said, hurriedly correcting himself. He took a quick swig of brandy.

"Well, my friend," the governor said quietly. "I'm afraid you will either do this on your ship, or I will confiscate the ship and have my own men crew it." The governor steepled his fat, sausage-like fingers, and looked over them at the sea captain.

Colin frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, well. Your mission sounds fairly reasonable," he said pleasantly. "There will be monetary compensation, of course?"

"Of course." The governor bent and withdrew a sack of what Colin thought were coins judging by the tinkling sound coming from the sack. The governor dropped it on his desk. Colin picked it up and looked inside; it was indeed a large sum of gold. The governor asked, "Is that sufficient?"

"I should think so," Colin said, smiling politely. "I'd best get started. We'll put out early tomorrow morning."

"Keep me updated," Governor Sybarite said, turning his eyes back to his cake. Colin was quite sure this was a dismissal from his attention, and so he stood, gave a small bow, and then walked down the hall towards the hall. He had an appointment to keep with Verity at the tavern.


	6. Chapter Four: Necessary Sins

Chapter Four

Necessary Sins

Ten minutes after Verity watched Bender climb the stairs, the page from the governor's mansion reappeared at her side. He took her hand, pressed a key into her palm, and said, "Room number two, Miss Carlisle."

"Thank you," she told the page, looking down at the key before smiling over at him.

"You're welcome," the page said, giving her a kindly smile. "If you need anything don't hesitate to call on me at the governor's residence. The name is Robert Chandrol."

"Thank you, Mr. Chandrol," Verity said.

He gave her a bow. "Do not mention it. Good evening, Miss Carlisle." Verity watched as he turned and left the tavern. The door didn't swing closed after him; instead, a smug-looking Colin Black walked into the tavern.

As Colin approached, Verity stood and crossed her arms. "Captain," she said coolly.

"Miss Carlisle," Colin said genially. "You should be quite comfortable here. Don't worry. Oxbay will be liberated soon. It wouldn't surprise me if you were home within a week."

"I'm sure we're all glad to hear that," Verity said waspishly, her eyebrows rising. "So, why are you still here?"

"We're putting out to sea tomorrow morning, first thing. I just…" his voice trailed off as he realized that she wasn't happy about the prospect of returning home. He lookd confused and said, "Verity…?"

She looked away and snapped, "What?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing. I'm tired is all. I'd like to go to bed. Goodnight and goodbye." She spun and stormed up the stairs. In the distance above him, Colin heard a door slam. All eyes in the tavern turned to him.

"Uh," he said, blushing slightly. "Lover's quarrel," he explained. "Or something." He turned and left the inn.

"Definitely 'or something'," the bartender muttered to himself as he went back to polishing the glass in his hand.

From her room at the inn, Verity watched in the dusky light as Colin walked up the street. He stopped at the corner, glanced back at the inn, then turned and disappeared behind a building. She sighed quietly. "Goodbye for now," she muttered, and pulled the shade.

She opened the door to the hall and walked across the corridor to room nine. She knocked on the door. She put her ear to the door and heard rustling, then a slurred voice called, "Is it Mary? Mary?"

"Mary?" Verity wondered aloud to herself, and then called, "Oh. Oh, yes, it's me. Let me in, quickly!" She pounded the door heavily to punctuate her urgency.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," said Bender from the other side of the door. "Hold your horses." He pulled the door open and Verity rushed past him into the room. He glanced after her. "What's your hurry?"

"I—uh—I need you," Verity stammered awkwardly. She had been trying to sound lusty, but she thought that 'pained' was a better way to describe her tone. She glanced around the room, which was fairly barren. A bed sat in the corner with a canvas bag on top and a wooden chest at its foot. A desk sat against the wall, upon which a bronze lamp sat, unlit. A bedside table held a large jug.

Bender didn't seem to notice. He began to approach her, and she moved over to the desk against the wall. She hadn't been quite sure what she was going to do, but the aim was quite clear to her; she needed a set of men's clothes.

"C'mere, you," Bender said, moving to follow her. She nearly screamed when he grabbed her sides, lifting her brutishly onto the desk. Verity felt his hands on her skirts, searching for the hem. She wanted to shriek, to call for help, but no sound came out of her mouth.

Her arms flailing, Verity tried to push Bender away. As her hands moved, one came into contact with something cold and metallic. She glanced to her left. The lamp! She picked it up and whacked Bender on top of the head with it just as he was about to kiss her shoulder, bared by her flailing.

Bender stared at her for several moments, his mouth hanging open, and then he collapsed on the floor, groaning. Verity, breathing very heavily, slipped off the desk, straightening her dress as she did. That hadn't been her plan, she mused, but it seemed to do the trick. The only problem was that he might be dead.

She knelt, putting her ear very close to his mouth to his ear to see if he was still breathing. Se was relieved when, almost immediately, the drunk began to stir. She gave a sigh of relief and quickly scrambled to unfasten his belt. She had to work fast.

After tugging his boots off, Verity had to lift his legs slightly to get his trousers off. She was able to unbutton the shirt he wore, flip Bender (with much difficulty) onto his back, and pulled the shirt off. She grabbed the canvas sack on the bed, emptied it of the few trinkets he had, and stuffed the clothes inside.

The drunkard had begun to stir. Verity looked around, and her eyes fell on the jug on the bedstead. Verity raised an eyebrow, stood, and walked over to the table. She sniffed at the rim of the jug. It smelled strongly of liquor. "Look," she whispered to Bender, setting the jug on the ground next to him. "A nice jug of—uh—rum. Or ale, or something. Drink up."

After getting to her feet, Verity hurried to the door. She grabbed the final touch she would need (a wide-brimmed straw hat) from the hook by the door. "Just add it to my tab," she called to Bender as she turned and shut the door behind her. She had a strong feeling that Bender would be suffering less from the bump to the head and more from a hangover come morning.

She walked down the stairs to the common room of the tavern, hefting the sack of Bender's clothes. She told the innkeeper, "I'd like to have a nice walk before I run out of daylight. Will you hold onto my key?" The innkeeper agreed and a moment later she was stepping into the main road of the colony.

Verity had no trouble reaching the harbor. She smiled at the guardsmen there, said, "I just want some fresh sea air," and was granted immediate access. She made a beeline for the dock, and dropped to her knees at the shoreline.

Working quickly, Verity was able to get the clothes out of the sack, wash them in saltwater, and wring them out. When she emerged from under the dock, evening had begun to set, and the guardsmen were setting a fire in a stone pit near the door. "Hello miss," one said politely.

"Hello," Verity said, eying them as they lit the fire. "Would you mind if I used your fire here to dry my husband's clothes?" She smiled abashedly, holding them up.

"Not at all, ma'am," said the first redcoat, tugging at his collar.

Verity held the damp shirt up to the fire. "Thank you, sirs," she said politely.

"Can I help, missus?" asked the second redcoat, shouldering his rifle. He reached out a hand for the shirt.

Verity smiled at the man. "Oh, please. You can hold the shirt and I'll hold the pants." She dug into the canvas bag and withdrew the damp pants. She unrolled them, gave them another squeeze to get a few drops of moisture out, and then held them up to the fire.

"Who did you say your husband was?" asked the first redcoat, snatching the shirt away from his partner. He smiled as he shook wrinkles out of the fabric.

Verity pretended to study the hem of the pants she was drying. "I didn't," she said distractedly. "We just arrived. Say, could one of you gentlemen point me to the butcher's shop?" The question was only part distraction; the butcher's shop would figure into her plan.

"Isn't it a bit late to be shopping for meat?" asked the second redcoat suspiciously. It was as if, robbed of the chance to help Verity, he now had the unexplainable urge to investigate her.

"I just want to know where to get there," Verity said defensively. "So I don't have to waste time when I go out for my errands in the morning." She shook the slacks, and turned them over, so the seat was facing the fire.

"Well, it's across the street from the tavern, a few doors down," said the first redcoat, shooting a glare at his partner.

"What?" demanded the man, frowning grumpily.

"You don't have to be so accusatory," replied the first guard. "She's just a young bride trying to make her way. Isn't that right, missus?" He smiled toothily at Verity.

"Err," Verity said, looking slightly confused for a moment before nodding vigorously. "Right!"

"I wasn't being accusa—thingy," said the other guard, sulkingly slightly. "It's just suspicious, isn't it?"

"Oh, give it a rest. She hasn't said anything to give us the idea that she's up to no good!" barked the first guard.

The second redcoat straightened and said, "You're just thinking that 'cause she's pretty! I ought to march over to your house and tell Kate you're looking at other women!" His chest puffed up self-importantly.

"First of all," the first guard said angrily, "the missus here is definitely one woman, not multiple." He paused, and when he spoke again, there was a twinge of fear in his voice. "And I'm not looking at her! I'm not, am I, missus?" He glanced at her, and then remembered what he was doing and looked back at his partner.

"Gentlemen," said Verity, snatching Bender's shirt away from the guard. "I don't mean to cause trouble, so I'll just be going home." She turned and, giving a dignified sniff, walked back to the gated entrance into town. Walking as quickly as she could to the butcher's shop, she couldn't help but realize that she was running out of daylight.

When she arrived, there was a woman sweeping the porch with a willow broom. She looked up as Verity approached. "Hello there. Can I help you?"

"Well, I hope so," Verity said hesitantly. She smoothed her skirt and hoisted her sack higher on her shoulder. "I need some hair. I would prefer dark hair; perhaps wool?"

"Wool?" asked the woman, leaning on her broom thoughtfully. "My husband generally sends it to the clothier, but I'll see if he has any."

"I don't need much," Verity said quickly. "All I really need is a few little strands."

"What's it for?" asked the woman, regarding Verity with a measure of suspicion.

Verity smiled nervously. "An old family tradition for weddings," she lied.

"Oh, congratulations!" the woman cried, throwing the door to the shop open. "Come inside, dear, and let me have a look around."

Verity thanked her and followed her into the butcher shop. The shop was neat and clean and smelled vaguely salty. There were several dried slabs of meat hanging from hooks in the ceiling.

The butcher's wife walked over behind the counter. "Hmm. Now, where would he put it?" She began pulling drawers open. "I'm sorry, my husband can be quite disorganized sometimes."

"That's quite all right," Verity said.

"Ah. Here we are. I found a bit." The butcher's wife straightened from her search, holding a palm full of dark wool. "There you are," she said, handing it over to Verity.

Verity smiled and pocketed the wool. "Can I give you a coin or two for it?" she asked upon discovering a few coins in the pocket.

"No, no," said the older woman, shaking her head happily. "It's my pleasure. Good luck with the wedding."

"I do hope you'll be able to come," Verity said. "I have the feeling you and I may become good friends, after you helped me out of this problem and all."

"How lovely," said the woman.

Verity bade her goodnight and left the shop, crossing the street to the tavern. The attendant smiled as she entered. "Nice walk?" he asked idly, polishing a silver knife.

"Yes, thank you. The colony is lovely," she said with a smile. She was about to head up the stairs when she turned and said, "What time do you reckon it is?"

"Maybe nine," said the attendant indifferently.

"Could you wake me up before sunrise?"

"I sure can. I'm up about then with the roosters." He smiled and leaned on the bar. "Breakfast comes with the room. I can make some eggs, a biscuit or two and some bacon. Maybe even a pineapple or banana. What would you like?"

"Could I have the biscuits, and some fruit?"

"Jam or honey?" said the attendant.

"Honey, please," Verity said.

"All right." The attendant made a note on a piece of paper by the bar.

"Thank you. Good night." She turned and walked up the stairs. Along the corridor, she paused outside room number nine, only to carry on again when she heard the steady snoring of a man that was dead to the world. Five minutes later, Verity was dozing lightly on the bed in her room.


	7. Chapter Five: You Say Goodbye

Chapter Five

You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

Colin stared at the ceiling of his quarters, watching the sunlight creep slowly across its rough surface. He sighed quietly, releasing the tension that had been pent up in him for the past few hours and noticed for the umpteenth time that there was a strange but pleasant scent in the air. He couldn't quite place it, but every time he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he saw Verity Carlisle.

But it was better not to think about her, Colin berated himself silently. He slid off the bed, burying his face against the pillow for several long deep breaths as his feet touched the floor. He inhaled deeply, as if doing so would somehow brand his senses with that scent, so he could carry it with him. "This is nonsense," he sighed and stood up. Tugging his tricorn low on his head, he stepped out of the quarters and onto the deck.

"Morning, captain," called Demaro from the quarterdeck.

"It would appear that way, yes," Colin muttered. "Are we ready to sail?"

"Still waiting for our new recruits," Demaro said hopelessly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Right," Colin said grumpily. He wanted to put distance between himself and this island, before he lost the resolve required to do so. Moving over to the gangplank, he said, "I'm going to stop in the tavern and see if I can rustle them up. Try not to leave without me."

"Aye, captain," called Demaro, giving a wave of his hat. Colin disembarked and headed for the gate.

"I can _look_," one of them muttered to the other as Colin passed. "It's not adultery if you're only _looking_."

"Is too," said the other guard, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "It's infidelity in your heart."

Colin glanced at them both, shook his head bemusedly, and continued on. It must be something in the water supply here, he mused to himself as he made his way through the town of Redmond. A few minutes later he was opening the door to the tavern. The innkeeper was up already and greeted Colin. "Hello, sir."

"Hello. Is Miss Carlisle's room paid up?" Colin asked, pulling his moneybag from his belt. He looked around. Several men were lying around on the floor of the tavern, dozing. He recognized one as his recruiting officer. He gave a sigh and looked back to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper glanced at his book and answered, "She is for today."

Colin withdrew a few gold coins from his bag and put them on the counter. "Make sure she gets what she needs. If that doesn't cover it, put it on my tab. I'm good for it; you can ask the governor himself."

"That won't be necessary, sir," the attendant said genially, smiling brightly. "I'm sure your word is good."

"Thank you," Colin said. "Do you know if Miss Carlisle is up?"

"She should be. I woke her myself a few hours ago."

Colin frowned thoughtfully. Why would Verity want to be up that early? Perhaps she simply wanted to explore the town. He cleared his throat. "Has she left the tavern?"

"No, sir. I'd have seen her."

Colin thanked the man and climbed the stairs. He knocked on the door marked with a crudely carved '2' and called quietly, "Verity?" There was no answer. He put his ear to the door, and he couldn't hear anything. That didn't mean anything. He hadn't heard her sleeping on the ship, either, had he? He sighed. "Verity, I want to talk to you."

There was still no answer. She may have gone back to sleep. Colin decided to knock a little harder, which brought a chorus of shouts from several of the other guests, none louder than the occupant of room nine who cried, "_Stay away from me, harlot from Satan!_"

Colin blinked, glancing over to the door to room nine, then back to Verity's door. He considered. She was either sleeping, or didn't want to talk to him. Either way, Colin knew that this sort of problem could only be solved with time. He would have to wait until he returned to the island to see her. "Goodbye, Verity," he said quietly to the door.

"All right," Colin said, shouting so that all the guests, including the ones sacked out on the floor downstairs, could hear him. "Anyone meaning to sail on the _Crimson Dawn_ should be outside, on the street, in five minutes' time!"

Amid the rush of activity, Colin walked down the stairs, leaving Verity's door. On the other side of the door, though, was something he didn't expect: an empty room.

Verity glanced at herself in the reflection of the water in a trough, which was meant to service the animals that the innkeeper kept as food. She sighed quietly, thinking on her appearance. She looked masculine enough, she supposed, with the wool she had received from the butcher's wife affixed to her face with the honey from her breakfast. But would that be enough to disguise her from Colin Black?

She would just have to hope so. Verity had braided her thick black hair and tucked it up under her hat, which she pulled low over her forehead. Hoping that it would pass her off, she took some dirt and rubbed her chin and neck with it. Barely repressing a shudder, she decided that would have to do.

Above her, from her open window (from which a primitive rope, constructed of bed sheets, had been hung for her to escape), Verity heard Colin shout, "_All right! Anyone meaning to sail on the _Crimson Dawn_ should be outside, on the street, in five minutes' time!_" Now was the time to move. Verity didn't want to be the first in line, but she didn't want to be the last, either. So she walked around the building, waiting for the rest to line up.

Colin stood on the porch in front of the inn and surveyed the group in front of him. There were seven new recruits, each of which was lined up facing him. Most of them looked as if they had spent the evening drinking.

Colin asked each of them their names, and the second to the last one surprised him.

"Jerome Bender," said the figure, which was slightly shorter than the rest, and quite thin. Colin glanced at the bearded chin and wondered how he had had a chance to grow quite a beard while at the same time he sounded like a schoolboy.

"How old are you, Jerome?" Colin asked curiously.

"Nineteen," was the reply.

"Just nineteen, eh? A bit young to be setting out for sea, wouldn't you say?" Colin glanced over to the recruiting officer, who shrugged.

"No," said the young crewman tersely, the tone defiant and spirited. Colin couldn't help but to admire the attitude and spunk, but he wondered if the wiry creature before him could really provide any kind of assistance on the ship.

"His parents died last month. He's joining to provide a living," explained the officer, interrupting Colin's thoughts. Colin nodded sagely.

"Sounds reasonable, that does," Colin said, and he moved on to the next person. As he asked the person's name, he thought he heard the sound of a relieved sigh.

Ten minutes later, Colin and the rest of the sailors were mounting the gangplank to the _Crimson Dawn_. Demaro greeted him, "Captain! We're ready to make sail when you are."

"Excellent. Let's get out of here," Colin said, taking the helm. "Throw off the mooring lines. Let down the sails. Secure the cargo!" The crewmen complied, and the _Crimson Dawn_ moved out of port. The ship put its rudder to Redmond Island and sailed out into the archipelago.


End file.
